World's Finest Dads
by Shatterr
Summary: After being married for a year, Bruce and Clark decide to adopt a young boy named Dick Grayson. Stories of super-parenting and the problems four-year-olds bring. Superbat, M/M, and some occasional smut.
1. Prologue

"It's a bird! It's a plane! It's..._SUPERMAN_!"

"Dick, get down from there! If Daddy sees you all the way up there-"

"No wait! It's _Batman_! Whooosh!" Dick held up his arms with his makeshift cape (bedsheets wrapped around his neck) and jumped. Clark briefly flew up into the air, grabbing the child in mid-fall, cradling him close and then slowly easing back down to the floor. "Don't do that! Daddy would be _so mad_ if he saw-"

"Saw what?"

Clark wheeled around, face-to-face with an ill-tempered Bruce, one eyebrow cocked and a frown on his face.

"O-oh, n-nothing...Bruce..." He used his spare hand to push up his glasses: a nervous habit.

"You know, you can beat me at almost everything else, Kal," Bruce pulled a reaching Dick out of Clark's grip (that had suddenly gone slack), "but _lying_? You're probably the worst liar I know."

"It's tough to lie to a guy like you." muttered Clark, sulking (usually Bruce's job) to the living room.

Dick pet Bruce's nicely slicked back hair. "Daddy, I'm Batman _and_ Superman."

The dark man couldn't help but crack a smile. "So that's what you were doing?" He set the child and knelt down to his height. "I know you're really good at flips and cartwheels, but you can't pretend to be Batman or Superman anymore. It's dangerous for you."

"I want to be a superhero, though, too! Everyone _else_ is!" Dick pouted, facing away from him, crossing his arms.

"How about we make up your own superhero that you can be?"

"Okay!"

"Alright. We'll do this with Dad, okay?"

"Okay! DADDDDYYY!" Dick ran to go find Clark and Bruce just smiled, slowly following.

Clark was looking at his laptop, streaming the news from Metropolis. Nothing particularly interesting seemed to be happening at the moment, and he was grateful, but sometimes it felt so...so _empty _not having to save the world every day. Not to mention Gotham was not really like Smallvile _or_ Metropolis.

But he could commute and Bruce couldn't, so this is the way things were. A penthouse in the middle of a skyscraper with two superhero dads and one adorable little four-year-old.

"Daddy, Daddy! Daddy says we can make me a superhero of my own!"

Clark smiled and put his laptop on the coffee table, picking Dick up and placing him in his lap. Bruce soon joined him on the couch, crossing his legs. Sundays were usually this leisurely, and though it felt odd for both men, Dick was their pride and joy.

Nothing could stop Superman from spending time with his son. "What are your powers going to be?"

"I'm going to be really smart, and build things, and see through things, and have laser eyes, and have ice breath, and drive a Batmobile, and kill people, and-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. _Kill _people? That's not what Superman or Batman does, Dick!" Honestly, Clark was freaking the hell out. "Th-they help people! They don't kill them!"

Bruce was just as concerned, but hid it well. He pulled Dick into his own lap (something that happened often: the men fought for dominance so much, it even came down to who got to hold the child in their lap longer) and looked down at him, brushing a black strand of hair out of his eyes. "Superheroes save people, Dick. That's the right thing to do."

"Well, I meant kill the bad guys..." Dick mumbled, feeling really bad and ashamed for having said something so wrong.

"Not even the bad guys. We bring them to _jail_."

"Oh, ok-kay..." His chin wobbled, tears formed, and his shoulders trembled.

"Don't cry!" Clark was suddenly a puddle of mush (that's what Dick did to him) as he pulled him back into his lap and cuddled him. "Shhhh! Don't cry! We're sorry! Daddy's sorry!"

The billionaire looked sort of annoyed, getting up. "Kal, you're too soft."

"Daddy's sorry..." he wiped a tear from the young boy's cheek, staring into his teary eyes with his own blue, wide ones. "What can I do to make it up to you?" Bruce was completely ignored.

"T-take me f-for a r-ride."

Clark nodded intently. "Just a little one though, okay?"

"Okay!" the boy suddenly perked up, very excited and happy. It made him smile, as he picked him up and zoomed out of the room, giggles of innocent joy following after.

* * *

"K-Kaa_aal_..."

"You're not gonna get on top tonight, no matter how much you whine and moan."

"B-but...Kal..._Kaaalll_..."

Clark grunted. "No, Bruce. I'm...on top."

"That's not _fair_..."

"Daddy?"

"Shit!" Bruce swore, pulling the silken covers over their bodies as fast as he could react. "Why didn't you hear him _coming_?!" he snarled. Clark just smiled and shrugged. The bastard, he had _known_.

"Daddy...I wanna join the party, too...is it a superhero party?" Dick climbed up into the bed next to the two men, who were currently very sweaty and disheveled (for some _odd _reason that the boy just _couldn't _work out).

"Yes, Dick, it's a _superhero_ party, and you can't come, because you're _not_ a superhero!" Bruce tried to explain in a hurried way, while Clark continued to remain inside of him, moving inch by inch, torturing him, making him want to moan and scream for him...

Of course, he couldn't at the moment. Their son was in front of them. In fact, just a foot or two away. And yes, Superman had heard the boy coming ages ago, but sometimes sex got a little _dull _and it was always nice to _spruce_ things up a bit. Keep Bruce on his _toes_.

"But you said we could make me my own superhero...also, you're not in superhero costumes right now, so I-"

"Clark, would you stop?!"

"Heh. Sorry." Finally the bigger man pulled out, giving Bruce both relief and dissatisfaction, laying next to him under the covers.

"Dad_dyyyy_..." whined Dick, in a similar way the darker man had just called for Clark. Bruce's face went red.

"Don't say it like that, Dick. Just s-say it politely. Like, 'Daddy'."

"No. I want to play!" He crawled out of the bed just to be able to stomp his foot on the cold wood (expensive, that was, and here he was, scuffing it all up).

"Go play with Alfred."

"NO! I WANT TO PLAY WITH DADDY!" He thrust his pointer finger at Clark.

The Kryptonian, still very much so horny and hard, tried to smile in the best way he could. "It's late, Dick. We can play tomorrow. Run off to bed."

"I wanna sleep in here..." muttered Dick, crawling back into the bed and trying to get under the covers, which Bruce had to hold close to him and his husband as tight as he could.

"No sleeping in here tonight, Dick."

"Why are you so _mean_?!" Great. Now the waterworks were starting.

"ALFREDDDD!"

Dick sobbed louder.

The butler came as soon as he was called, cautiously entering the room. "Yes, Master Bruce?"

Bruce pointed to Dick. "Out."

And the boy kept sobbing hysterically. "Y-you _hate_ me! I jus-jus wan-wanted to be a sup-_superhero_, too!"

"_Please_, Alfred!" His voice _was_ really harsh, and it was times like these where it was obvious who was the better 'parent'. Bruce just didn't have the patience, a lot of the time.

Clark was feeling really bad for the child, and his erection was finally starting to fade watching the scene play out. "Bruce..."

Alfred coaxed Dick out of the room, promising cookies and milk so he could go to bed.

"Bruce, maybe that wasn't the best thing to do...or the way to do it."

He grunted and reached over in his dresser, pulling the drawer open and grabbing something inside, giving Clark only a second to react as he pulled out a Kryptonite necklace, throwing it around his neck. He used this opportunity to get on top, spread his trembling legs, and thrust inside his tight ass.

"A-alright...you...w...wi...win...Bru-uce..."

Bruce moaned in immense satisfaction, thrusting in and out of his lover, the only lubrication being Clark's spit from before.


	2. Daily Planet

It had been a big decision with a couple of arguments and lots of thinking: should Dick go to daycare in Gotham or Metropolis? However, the real question came down to: which was _safer_? And both of them had argued for their cities (perhaps it was more an issue of _pride_) until Alfred had suggested that he simply rotated. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, he'd be in Gotham. Tuesdays and Thursdays, he'd be at Metropolis.

Needless to say, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings were always full of pouty fits and tantrums that drove Bruce crazy. As if the chaos of 6 o'clock on a Monday morning wasn't hectic enough. Clark was drowsily wandering around the penthouse, trying to find his red tie and hair gel, while Alfred was cooking up a breakfast storm, and Bruce was trying to get suited up, instead being bothered relentlessly by Dick.

"I DON'T WANNA GO! I HATE IT THERE! _I HATE IT THERE_!"

"But Dick, Daddy's going to work!"

"I want to go, too! Let me go to work! LET ME GO TO WORK!"

"You can't come to Daddy's work." growled Bruce, undoing his messy tie and retying it, staring at his reflection in the mirror, admiring his own irritated face.

"Why not?! It's not fair!"

"Because Daddy's _busy_ at work. Daddy has to go to _meetings_."

Clark poked his head out from the bathroom. "I can take him, Bruce."

"You shouldn't! He should be obedient and go to daycare like a four-year-old's supposed to!" he spat, pulling his blazer down tight and crisp.

"He's not a _dog_, Bruce." Clark came out, his hair freshly slicked back. He picked up the sobbing boy, bouncing him as gently as he could in his arms. "Wanna come to the Daily Planet with Daddy?"

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" He clapped, ecstatic.

"You're not going to get any work done and you're letting a four-year-old get his way."

"Master Bruce, if I may, _you_ were no different."

"Shut up..." the man mumbled, storming to the bathroom that Clark had just occupied and slammed the door shut, probably shaving and working on his hair.

Clark smiled at Dick. "Gee, Dick, Daddy's mean sometimes, right?"

"Yeah!"

"But you like me, right?"

"Yeah!"

The man giggled as Dick grabbed at his glasses, pulling them off. "Suuuuperman!"

"Do I look like Superman?"

"You _are_ Superman!" That question was so silly, the boy couldn't contain himself.

Clark gently took his glasses away from the small hand, but before he could return them to his face, Dick grabbed them again. Alfred smiled a little, laying out two huge plates on the counter and a smaller, more reasonable version on the high-chair.

"What'd you make, Alfred?" Clark went into the kitchen, looking at the plates, still idly bouncing Dick in his arms, who was currently pretty busy trying on his dad's glasses. "It smells delicious."

"All of your 'homestyle' favorites, Master Clark."

"How many times I gotta remind you not to call me that, Alfred?"

"I do apologize, sir."

"That's no good, either..."

"Clark, you better get-"

Interrupting Bruce's lectures came a (most likely, overdramatic) scream from the four-year-old and a quiet crash of precious porcelain breaking on the wood flooring.

"Owwww! Oww, someone, help!" sobbed Dick, body writhing as he clutched onto his red hand covered in Bruce's fresh coffee.

"_Dick_!" scowled Bruce, his temper really rising (close to his breaking point, by now) as he hurried over, first kneeling down to look at the shattered porcelain of his favorite coffee mug.

"P-please!" sobbed Dick, tears flowing out from his horrified, blue eyes. Clark was in shock but he did not hesitate. Grabbing his burning hand, he blew on it, a wave of ice-cold air hitting and soothing the hot skin.

And that was all it took, but Bruce was still infuriated. "What did you _do_?!"

"Wanted to try Daddy's coffee..." sniffled Dick, rubbing his face into Clark's sweater.

"I'll get right to making you a new one and cleaning up, Master Bruce."

"Don't bother!" he spat, dropping the piece of porcelain he had been examining, grabbing his suitcase, and storming out of the penthouse.

Clark pet his head as calmly as he could remain, his own heart still racing at the event. This boy was gonna kill him, he was sure of it...

"Why does Daddy hate me?" mumbled the child, burying his face deeper into the knit.

"He doesn't...don't ever think that." He put him in his high-chair. "Hurry up and eat so we can go to work, okay?" he said, his voice soothing.

* * *

When Clark entered the building, disheveled as ever, his glasses askew, some pieces of hair already sticking out from his slick gel-back, and his tie loose, carrying his ever-hyper son and almost tripping over a stack of papers near the door, he was immediately bombarded with women swooning. Did not help the whole "clumsy" thing.

"Oh, Clark, he is just a doll!"

"What a little angel!"

"An absolute rose!"

Dick pouted. "I'm not a doll, or a flower, or an angel...those are girly things. I'm..._Superman_!" he thrust his chest out and looked up into the air as Clark set him down.

They all laughed and giggled and made even more remarks, finding him utterly adorable. As Clark did-however, it worried him that someday the four-year-old would make a slip. Even if he did, he could probably write it off as playful imagination, but still...

Dick went running to his desk and hopped in his chair. Lois was on the other side. She gave him a small smile, but an even bigger one when she saw Clark come bumbling over. "Didn't know it was bring-your-child-to-work day."

Clark sighed, picking Dick up out of his chair and pulling another one over, letting him sit in that one, next to him. The boy immediately started to spin around and around (an event that was surely to happen all day long). "It was a big...um, thing...in the morning, so..."

"One of those? Trust me, I know." she sighed, looking back down at her computer screen, "at least we have a good scoop to work on today. What do you know about rapists, Clark?"

He groaned. "Please don't let my son hear about this."

Soon enough, the child got very bored sitting in front of Clark's computer and watching him type about things he couldn't read or understand. So, as all children do when they're bored, he began to wander. First he went to the next desk over, where Jimmy was furiously working on some Photoshopping, his teeth gritted and his eyes wide and close to the screen.

"What are you doing, sir?"

"W-wha? O-oh! Oh, me!" he looked down at him, "I'm working on some pictures!"

"Duh."

"O-oh, well, uhm...yeah! Haha..." he laughed nervously, not really knowing what to say. And Dick didn't either, so he walked away. Next desk over was some lady who instantly picked him up and tried cuddling him. _That_ was terrible. He didn't like the way her touch was soft and how her arms weren't as big or safe and her chest was all...squishy, not hard. He missed his dad's hold...that was the only hold he really liked (he didn't even allow Alfred to pick him up).

He whined and squirmed until the lady complied and let him run back to Clark, immediately trying to crawl up his leg and into his lap.

"Hold me!" he demanded. Clark pulled back from his keyboard and looked down at him, a little surprised. "Hold me!"

"Gee, Dick, this is random!" He picked him up under his armpits and then plopped him in his lap, facing the computer. This wasn't what Dick wanted, he wanted to be cuddling up against his chest, his head on his strong and able shoulder, with his big hand on his back, comforting, _protecting_ him. But he had to take what he got, because this seemed to be all his dad would give him right now.

And so he was back to staring at a bright screen that he didn't understand. Sometimes the images on the computer would change: Clark would go to Google, or look up a definition of a word, however, when, after a substantial amount of clicking and stomach muscles going tight against Dick's back, his Daddy appeared on the screen!

Just a picture, but his face was sort of blurry and some of it cut off. Instead, it was something red and long and veiny and sort of gross-

He heard Clark gasp quietly under his breath and quickly (as fast as his reflexes allowed) navigated away from the image. "Bruce..." he mumbled very quietly under his breath, looking around his desk to make sure no one saw that.

"What was that?" Dick asked curiously.

"N-nothing...nothing..."

"No, I saw Daddy, it was something!"

Lois looked up from her computer.

"Yeah, Daddy sent a picture...shoosh, Dick." And now there was something hard poking him on his bum.

Dick nodded: he didn't mind doing what Clark asked him (most of the time) because he was so nice about it, but when Bruce asked him to do something, a lot of the time, he did the opposite or ignored him, just because it was fun to see his reactions. But that thing poking him was starting to bother him quite a bit. He squirmed uncomfortably.

"Lois, would you mind watching Dick for a minute?" He picked him up and set him down on his feet next to his office chair, getting up. "I'm going to just...go to the bathroom."

"Sure, Clark..." she raised an eyebrow.

He smiled and nodded, "Swell...be right back."

* * *

Locking himself in the first stall available, he yanked down his pants and boxers and flopped down on the toilet, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall, pumping his hard cock furiously.

"Bruce..." he muttered, wanting nothing more than to achieve his orgasm quickly so he could return to work. His husband had been so naughty, sending him dick-pics at _work_...but that meant that he was masturbating right now, too, right? And that was so sexy...

Something else that was sexy: the way Bruce had so easily figured out how to top him when he thought for _sure_ he'd be in control all last night...yeah, that was _hot_. And Clark had no problem being the Dark Knight's slave for a night or two. Still, he had thought Bruce was still mad about the coffee event this morning, not to mention he was probably grouchy as hell since he didn't drink any.

But, mmmm, being _Bruce'_s slave...

And he blew it right then and there, all over the wall of the stall. _Great_, another mess to clean up. Well, he'd have to blame this one on Bruce...

* * *

Soon it was Dick's favorite part of the day: lunch. He had been to the Daily Planet before and every time he had, Clark had taken him out to amazing restaurants. He _loved_ Metropolis...in fact, he wished they could live there, but _Daddy_ was all _mean_ about it...

"Where are we going for lunch?!" cried Dick as the clock turned twelve and people suddenly started stampeding for the door. He had been waiting to ask that all day.

Clark looked down at him, pausing typing. "Well, actually, I was just gonna stay here and work, but..."

"Oh, Clark. Let me handle it, for God's sake. Go out with your son."

He gave a warm smile. "Gee...thanks, Lois."

"No problem..." she mumbled, furiously typing, but then pausing, "oh yeah, and, how do you spell 'ridiculous'?"

"R-I-D-I-C-U-L-O-U-S. Ridiculous!"

"Wow, great job, Dick!" Clark burst enthusiastically, picking him as a reward. He grinned, feeling particularly proud. Lois, on the other hand, looked slightly irked getting spelling advice from a four-year-old.

He walked out of the near-empty office bouncing him in his arms smoothly. "Are you having fun?"

"Not really, but I like being with Daddy..."

"Awww. Would you be having more fun at Daycare?"

"Maybe..."

"I'm sorry, Dick."

"It's okay! I'm glad I'm here 'stead of Daddy's work." he snuggled his face into his chest once more.

"Awww, you don't like Wayne Enterprises? But it's so big and fun there! There's so much to play with~it's fun getting Daddy mad, right?"

"Yeah!"

Clark grinned, crossing the street with a little more caution than usual, then heading over to a bagel joint across the street. "How about we call Daddy once we get to the restaurant?"

"Mmm..." the boy thought about it long and hard, his brow furrowed, "...I...I guess."

The man chuckled, grabbing his cell phone out of his pocket with his free hand, dialing Bruce's number, holding the phone with his cheek and shoulder as he kicked the door open. Dick squirmed until Clark let him down, letting him run to a table.

Bruce answered his work phone with a disgruntled "Mr. Wayne?" greeting. He had probably been too lazy to look at the caller I.D.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne." Clark teased, biting his lip to stop from laughing.

He sighed. "Kal...hi."

"What was up with that e-mail, Bruce? You could have gotten me _fired_." He sat down in a chair across from Dick, who was already playing with the sugar packs on the table.

"I knew you wouldn't get caught."

"Mmmm...okay, well, Dick wanted to say something to you." He gave the boy the phone, smiling and nodding reassuringly when Dick shook his head no.

"No!" He persisted, crossing his arms.

"Awww, why not? You said you wanted to call Daddy!"

"No I didn't! You made me!" Okay, couldn't start making a scene in the bagel shop.

"Please, Dick.." coaxed Clark.

He made a face, then grabbed the phone and held it to his ear, biting on his thumbnail in the mean time.

"Dick?" Bruce asked, from the other side of the phone, not sure if the boy really was there or not.

"What?" The boy's voice was harsh, but it was so cute that it was almost humorous. Bruce withheld the laugh.

"What're you doing with Daddy? Where are you?"

"I'm at bagel..."

"The bagel shop? Wow...that's cool." He always tried to sound enthusiastic like Clark could, but he usually failed. This one was one of those times.

Dick shoved the phone back at Clark, who laughed and took it back. "Hey, sorry, I guess he doesn't want to talk. I think he's mad about this morning."

"I'm the one who should be _mad_." he snarled darkly, obviously annoyed.

"Give him a break. He's _four_."

"Well, _you're_ making it up to me tonight by continuing where we left off last night."

"Heh. Fine."


	3. Wayne Ent

"Do I really need the kryptonite to make you submit, Kal?"

"Maybe," snarled Clark darkly, grinning as he continued to push Bruce closer and close to their bedroom...they'd be getting there a lot faster if they'd both stop fighting each other and pausing to kiss every other second.

Bruce bit the other man's lip, moaning softly when he, in return, groped at his ass. It had been a long, hard, _stressful_ day at work for both of them. And they were _totally _ready to unwind. A push, a whine from Bruce, and a few make out sessions later, they made it to the door. Clark threw it open, smile instantly falling when his eyes first laid on the bed...which was _sheetless?_

Bruce turned around when he saw the puzzled look on Kal's face, scowling in pure frustration. Some how he knew this was all because of...

"Dick!" Clark instantly gravitated towards the-um, vanity? Oh good _Lord_, he was on top of it. "Dick, how did you get all the way up there?"

The boy was sitting on top of the wooden vanity, curled up in all of the blankets and sheets from their bed. He sat up, whimpering and rubbing his sleepy eyes. He rose up to the top, picking him out of the blankets. "You look like a cute little_ robin _in his nest..."

"Kal! This isn't the time to baby him! Dick, what the _hell_ were you doing?!"

Dick sniffed, rubbing his face into his father's shirt like he always did when he knew he did something wrong. Clark just rubbed his back, lifting back down, his feet gently hitting the ground.

"First of all, why were you in _our_ room? Second of all, why do you always end up on the _highest places in the house_? Third-"

"Bruce! Calm down. You're scaring him."

"Scaring _him_?! He's going to give me a _heart attack_!"

"Master Bruce." Alfred stood in the doorway, a familiar expression on his face. Bruce turned on his heel, obviously very annoyed. He massaged his temples, trying to calm his nerves.

"_What_, Alfred?"

"I'm afraid it's the batsignal, sir."

"_UAGH_!" He threw his hands in the air and stormed out of the room.

"I'm tired..." mumbled Dick, muffled by the knit of Clark's shirt. He gave Alfred a look, then carried him to his own room in the penthouse. He kicked the door closed behind him and put him down in his bed, tucking him under the covers

"Where's Daddy going," he asked.

"Daddy has to be Batman right now..."

"Will _you_ stay?"

Clark hesitated, then smiled, crawling next to him in the bed and wrapping his arms around the small child."Of course..my little robin."

Dick smiled. "I _like _that name..."

* * *

Bruce didn't return for quite some time, but it was a relief when Clark heard some noise up in the batbunker. He zoomed upstairs to find him taking off his cowl, looking very worn out.

"Poison Ivy, Kal. Posion Ivy, trying to intoxicate the entire city...and my _son_ is more stressful."

He sighed in relief, hugging him. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Of course I'm okay. But what about Dick?"

"Sleeping."

"I think I need to instruct Alfred to keep a better eye on him," he tossed his gloves aside, starting to slip out of the suit, "he can't keep ending up on top of the furniture. Or wandering into our bedroom. But it seems _you're_ the only one he'll listen to."

"Hmmm," Kal-el grinned, pulling Bruce by the waist close to him, their noses touching, "I'm the one in _control_ with some _other_ people, too."

"Right...let's go to the bedroom." He hastily got out of his costume and didn't even have a choice to put any clothes on: Clark picked him up bridal-style and flew downstairs to their bedroom. Alfred was used to these kinds of shenanigans, and he had learned just simply not to look unless prompted to.

He threw him down on the bed and smirked, looking at the gorgeous, ivory body in front of him. Ripping off his glasses and tossing them on the nearby stand, he bent down, instantly attacking his lips.

One thing lead to another, and soon the bed was hitting the wall pretty hard, in fact, they think they heard a crack or two this time, but that wouldn't stop them. It never did. Of course, something so loud and obnoxious drew _attention_. Not exactly Alfred's attention, as he was used to that sort of thing...but a _little boy's_. He snuck out of bed and moved across the hall, peeking in to the door, which had been left ajar.

Clark was now standing up, Bruce in front of him, bending at the knees and using his hands to support himself on the bed as he was pounded into with tremendous force. "Oh_ fuck _yeah," he growled, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. The Kryptonian just kept rolling his hips, pulling Bruce's abs closer to him and his cock.

Dick was both fascinated and scared by what he was seeing. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, and he wasn't sure if it was good or bad.

* * *

"Dad~dy! Dad~dy! Daaaaddddyyyy!"

Bruce looked down at him, straightening his tie. "What is it, Dick?"

"Last night I heard scary noises coming from Daddy's room again."

"We were watching a scary movie." Bruce said absently, giving himself one more look in the mirror before kneeling down to his son's height

"Can _I_ watch the scary movie, _too_?!"

"No." He ruffled his hair and stood up, heading to the breakfast bar, sitting down and waiting for his pancakes and coffee to be served to him. The scent of breakfast was in the air and it smelled so, _so_ good...

Especially on a Tuesday morning. A Tuesday morning in which his son would have to come to work with him.

Dick crawled on to a stool, and then on to the counter. Alfred turned around and tsk'd him, asking him politely to get off while he placed the plate full of pancakes in front of Bruce.

"No! I don't wanna! I'm Suuuuperman!" He stood up and leaped off the counter, and Clark flew by just in time, catching him before he hit the ground. He held him close, smiling.

The darker man scowled. "Kal, there is no way you should be smiling right now. Tell him he shouldn't do that."

"You shouldn't do that, Dick. No jumping off tables," he said, in a deep, mock stern voice, imitating Bruce. The words were there, but the message was completely something else, as he nuzzled his nose against his boy's and grinned.

"I forgot there's _two_ kids in this house," grumbled Bruce, taking a sip of his coffee.

* * *

"Okay. Stay _here_. Daddy's going to start work now." He set Dick down on the floor, tossing a pen and some blank computer paper at him, then sitting down at his desk.

Dick wasn't that _creative_, but he was mathematically inclined. So for the first fifteen minutes, he was content with writing a number of addition, subtraction, and even multiplication problems on the paper. But after that is when things started going down hill. Because fifteen minutes was a _long time_ for a four-year-old to stay in one place. Especially a four-year-old like _Dick_.

Looking up at his father to make sure he was preoccupied, which he was, eyes glued on to the computer screen like it was their natural position, Dick stumbled up and waddled over to the door. He looked back at Bruce once more, surprised that he was getting no reaction, but more than fine with that. He pulled it open, and slipped out, running down the hall.

Bruce didn't know anything about his escape until he got paged by his secretary's desk, telling him to immediately go to the 62nd floor. He stood up from his desk, briefly checking his cuffs, then walked out of his office, taking the elevator down.

He made his way to the cubicle where there was currently a girl helplessly whimpering. It didn't take long to find her and the mess: documents, file folders, paper weights, and writing utensils covered the floor. The keyboard and mice were left hanging off the desk, and the copier was printing what seemed like hundreds of the same little face each time. It was a _mess_. And all the Wayne Enterprises employee could do was stand there and hold her hands up to her mouth, tears watering in her eyes.

"_Dick_," he rumbled, in his Batman voice, not feeling as angry as he did then in quite a long time. He didn't give him any time to respond, picking him up. Without even apologizing to the employee, or doing anything really, he whisked him back to his office, storming through the hallways and ignoring the stares, putting Dick in his chair. "_What _did you do? And _WHY!_?"

"Daddy..." Dick sniffed, looking up at him with huge, adorable, tear-brimmed eyes.

"I _told _you to stay put!"

"I just...wanted to fly..."

"That's not the case and you know it! If that was the true, you wouldn't have done all that with the copy machine!"

The boy slipped off the office chair and stomped his foot, glaring up at Bruce. "Go away!"

He looked taken aback for a moment. "Go away...? This is _my_ office!"

"Go away, Daddy! You being mean!"

"You are so infuriating. You need to learn patience and obedience!"

Dick sniffed, holding his face and sitting in the corner of the office, peeking at Bruce every once in awhile through his fingers. Bruce was pretty sure Dick was faking it. He picked up the phone and called Clark.

"This is literally a day in_ hell_, Kal," he sighed, running his hand through his black hair, letting it fall back in to place as he rotated his office chair back and forth, watching Dick start to color on a blank piece of paper on the floor, once he realized his dad wouldn't buy the crying routine.

"Sounds peaceful to me."

"That's because I just got him calmed down."

"He's probably hungry. It's around lunch time."

"Ugh...I forgot about _that_."

"You sound tired."

"Yeah, well..." he smirked, "...you kept me up all night."

"You kept wanting to go at it!"

"Heh...look, I better go."

"Be nice, Bruce."

"I _am_! Bye." He ended the call and checked the new e-mail on his phone that he had received while talking to Clark. Absently, he talked to Dick, "So, it's lunch time. Where do you want to go eat for lunch? We could go to the cafeteria here. It's pretty good, but not really my taste. What do you feel like eating?" He looked up from his phone.

"Dick?"

But the boy was gone. _Again._


	4. Robin

Bruce went to the front desk, asking if his secretary had seen any sign of him. She hadn't. He started to panic a little inside, as he checked the bathrooms, not finding him, or anyone who had seen him. It wasn't until he got down to the next floor that he saw a crowd of people congregating around a window. He pushed them out of the way, grumbling, a bit apprehensive about what he might see.

His eyes widened and he took off back to his office, feeling his heart race faster than it even did when he was in grave danger himself. Because this time, it was _Dick_ in danger. Not to mention he was being dangled off the edge on a skyscraper by the very _Harley Quinn_.

Quickly, he changed into the batsuit, and used a secret entrance in the ceiling of his office to get up to the rooftop, running over to the railing, and hopping on it, walking around until he could drop to the level below. Jumping down on to the cement, he carefully approached Harley from behind.

"Help! _Please_, help!" Dick was squirming, kicking and punching the air uncontrollably, trying to get at least _one_ hit.

"_Let him go_," Batman snarled, glaring at her as she turned around, threatening to drop Dick with every sway of her curvy hips.

"No way! This is the perfect little cutie for my Mistah J. I'm just waitin' for the choppa and we'll be on our way."

"Let him go _now_, Harley, and I'll only put you in the hospital for _five _months."

"What can I say? He wants a protege. And he's Bruce Wayne's kiddo...which means the ransom would be extraordinary! It's a _win-win_, B-man! Jokah can't lose!"

Batman locked his jaw, staring at Dick, silently pleading him not to say anything else. But the boy looked to paralyzed with fear to really talk at all. Surprising, to be honest. He usually _never_ shut up.

"I'm giving you one more warning."

"I'm not gonna-"

He lunged forward, grabbing Dick by his shirt and tossing him as gently as he could to safety on the cement platform nearby, where there was no risk of falling off any edges. His fist thrust into Harley's face, making her stumble, screaming obnoxiously as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, a hand moving up to her bloody mouth. A powerful noise rumbled in the distance, getting louder and louder, until the helicopter came flying up. She took her chance and jumped, sticking her tongue out once she got in safely. "You got lucky! You'll be sorry for this, B-man! Jokah will make you pay, one way or anotha!"

Batman looked from the crowd of people cheering against the windows to Dick, who was just sitting up, propped up against the wall, his tiny chest raising up and down, frantically trying to catch his breath, as tears streaked his cheeks. He picked him up, as gently as he could, and moved around the corner, away from the eyes of the many spectators.

Dick breathed heavily, looking up at him with half-lidded blue eyes, still filled with tears and fear. Bruce choked, a tear rolling slowly down his cheek from behind the cowl. He held him close, trying to keep in his emotions as he so often did...but there was no stopping them anymore. He had almost lost his son. _He had almost lost his son_.

"D-Daddy..." he sobbed, hugging him around his thick neck, rubbing his face into the batsymbol as he continued to cry without constraint.

"Dick..." was all he could mutter.

And they stayed like that for a long time. Just holding on to each other, grateful to have each other, grateful to be together. He never wanted to let him go ever again. _Ever_.

* * *

"And then he was like...whooosh with his cape! And I was like, whoa! And then he came up, just like this, and WHAM! Hit her face! Then he was like..."

Clark grinned, nudging Bruce, "Looks like he found his new obsession."

Bruce couldn't hide the prideful smile that was overcoming his lips. For once, Dick seemed to look up to him. Not only that, but he felt like a _real _Dad. He picked him up by his underarms, holding him close, letting his arm wrap around his little butt to support him. "I've got an idea. How about we make you a special superhero costume so you can be your _own_ superhero, for_ real _now?"

"Okay, but I _has_ to be like Batman!"

He nuzzled his nose against the small one, "But you're so _different_ from Batman. You're so _cute_."

"I be cute _and _Batman's buddy!" Dick grinned, taking in the smell of Bruce's fresh, minty breath.

Bruce just smiled, gently kissing his lips and putting him back down. "Whatever you want, my little robin."

Dick posed, putting his hands on his hips and thrusting his chin into the air. "No! Just call me..._Robin_!"

"Heh...Okay. Whatever you say, Robin."

The boy giggled, feeling very proud. Bruce felt similar.

* * *

There was no sex that night. Despite being incredibly calm around Dick, Bruce was going absolutely insane without him in his sight. He had insisted to be the one to bathe him that night, and then checked on him five times as he was going to bed. After Dick finally yelled at him for bothering him, he was forced to stay in his own bed with Clark, staring at the open door, asserting that it be open in case Dick needed something and called.

So there would be no sex.

"Bruce, he's _fine_. You know no one could get into this penthouse." Clark had been trying to reassure him all night, to no avail.

"He's _not_ fine, Kal. He almost got _kidnapped_ today. And I need to find out about this whole Joker wanting a protege thing."

"That can wait until the morning."

"It can't. I shouldn't be here. I should be up there, trying to figure things out..."

"You need rest."

"I don't need to sleep, Kal." He slapped the worrying hand away, turning on to his side, with his back facing Clark. There was silence for awhile, and then he got up again. Clark sighed. "I'm just going to check on him one more time. Just to make sure he's sleeping."

He slid on his slippers, shuffling across the hall to Dick's bedroom. He quietly opened the door, peeking in. His nightlight lit up the room well enough. There was silence. Moving next to the bed, he let his hand drift mildly across the boy's cheek affectionately. He was definitely sleeping. That was good. It took a lot to part with him, forcing himself to leave, closing the door as gently as he had opened it, returning to his bedroom and kicking off his slippers once more.

"Is he asleep?"

"Yeah," Bruce breathed, crawling back into the bed and laying there, staring up at the ceiling.

"Are you sure we can't...you know?"

"Yeah," he repeated, voice cold, finally going back to normal.

"Just a little," Clark whimpered, moving his hand to grab at Bruce's crotch. His body tensed, and he glared at him.

"_No_."

With another sigh, the Kryptonian flopped on to his side, back to his partner. "_Fine_. Good_night_."

He secretly found his childish behavior adorable, but wouldn't ever tell him that. "Goodnight, Kal-el."

* * *

"Dick, you know I-"

"_Robin_!"

Bruce smiled. "Right. _Robin_. You know Daddy's _really_ busy at work..." The truth was that he'd never bring him there ever again. He couldn't risk it. Though he didn't like the idea of Dick being under someone else's supervision, either.

"I'm not going to daycare! I willn't!"

"It's won't or will not."

"_No_!"

"We could call a babysitter," Clark grinned.

"Kal, Alfred hardly stands a chance, and he's the best caretaker I _know_."

"Well, maybe we need someone who can.._.keep up with his energy_."

"I don't know if I like where this is going." Bruce put his hands in his pockets to hide in nervous twitch of his fingers, walking over to one of the many floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out at his city.

"Come on. It's pretty much our only choice and you know it."

He sighed, hanging his head.

"Daddddyyy! Talk to me," Dick groaned, yanking on his pant leg.

Clark looked down at him and picked him up. "Do you want a _fun_ babysitter?"

"Batman?"

"No, not Batman..."

* * *

"Just call me _Uncle Wally_!"

Dick whimpered, hiding behind Clark's leg, who picked him up. He then nuzzled his head into his strong chest, making more little, nervous noises. "I'm not sure why he's acting so shy...he's usually pretty confident around new people."

"Daddyyy..." he whined, tracing his finger over the patterns on his sweater vest.

Bruce ruffled his hair and threw a hand up in a wave to Wally. "I don't have time for this nonsense. Have fun. He's a hand full. Alfred, come on."

"Yes, sir."

"Bruce..."

Alfred followed him out of the penthouse. The redheaded man moved closer, trying to tickle at Dick's cheek but he just flinched away. He frowned. "I don't know what's wrong."

"He's just being cautious. You know him, Dick. It's the_ Flash_!" Clark gently lifted up Dick's head, who just moaned. "You like the Flash, don't you? He's cool, isn't he?"

"Is that really him..."

"Gee, Dick! Of course it is. Would I lie to you?" He set him down on the floor, where Dick immediately retook the position hiding behind his leg. Clark bent down, kissing the top of his head. "I have to go now. You'll have so much fun with Uncle Wally, and you can call me at lunch time."

He frowned, hopelessly reaching for him, despite being politely ignored, following him until he shut the door, having to do it a little more forcefully than usual to get him to understand he couldn't stay with him. Dick turned around, looking at Wally.

"Come on, sweetheart. I have a boy of my own, you know. And a daughter, too. Just around your age." He picked him up by the armpits, watching him squirm and whine. Grimacing, he bounced Dick in his arms as he walked to the living room, only to have him burst into tears. "Aw, man, what am I doing wrong?"

"Le-let go," the four-year-old sobbed, pushing on his chest.

He followed his demands and paused, thinking, his brow furrowing in concentration. What could they do to break the ice?

"I wanna play Robin!"

"What's Robin, little one?" The speedster sat next to him on the couch.

"Me, Robin, Batman's buddy!"

"_You're_ Batman's buddy? _Wow_!"

Dick hopped off, proudly. "I can show costume! It's red and green and yellow and black!"

"You have a costume? _Sweet_! Why don't you show me?"

He grinned, holding on to his hand as he guided him to his bedroom and presented the outfit hanging on his closet door that Alfred had recently finished constructing.

"Wow...that's _awesome_. You know, I think you'd get a long well with Jai."

The boy ignored him, pulling the tunic off the hanger and holding it in front of his body. "See?"

Flash knelt down next to him, smiling. "Yeah, I see. It's really cool!"

"And...and," he dropped the tunic to the floor, grabbing the domino mask that was laying on his bookshelf, wrapping it around his head with the elastic, "look! I get mask!"

Wally gasped. "Huh...who are you? I don't see the same little boy that was just standing here!"

He had a giggling fit, an expression of utter pride on his young face, "I'm _Robin_."

"Why'd you choose that name, huh?"

"Well, I...umm..." he kicked his foot back and forth, staring down at it intently as he thought. "Ummm..."

"Do you like birds?"

"No..."

"Do you like robins?"

"No..."

"Do you like the colors?"

"Yes!"

The man smiled, ruffling his hair. "Do you act like a robin?"

"Yea!"

"I've heard that you like to do tricks, too."

"I do tricks," Dick cried, happily doing a cartwheel across his bedroom.

"_Wow_! That was great!" He stood up, clapping lightly.

"I do more, too!" He went into a handstand, and walked towards him, before flipping upright once more. "Ta-da!"

"You're quite the little acrobat, huh?"

"Yea!"

Wally picked him up, bouncing him lightly as he walked back to the living room. The boy squirmed until he set him down again and turned on the plasma TV. "Hmm, you don't like being held much, do you?"

"Only by Daddy."

"Aw, come on, you can't tell me you don't like Uncle Wally's _cuddles_?"

"No!"

* * *

"Uhn, Kal, stop..." Bruce grumbled, trying half-heartedly to push the Kryptonian away. "_Not_ at work."

Clark giggled, pushing the dark man back into his office chair and straddling him, untying his tie, licking his lips hungrily. "You denied me last night. Now I'm hungrier than ever."

"Stop this nonsense." He closed his eyes, long, black eyelashes brushing his beautiful, paler-than-pale skin that Clark so loved. The contrast was simply breathtaking.

After freeing his neck from the tie, he unbuttoned the first two buttons, trying hard to stay calm enough not to rip his shirt off. "I want to hear you scream my name with your face pushed in this desk."

Bruce made a small noise, almost a whimper:_ dirty talk_, one of his only weaknesses with Clark. "Kal, _stop_. I have work to do. _You _have work to do."

"I'm on my lunch and you can afford to take a break, billionaire."

"You know that I can't-"

"I'm going to get my way, you're not going to stop me today, Bruce."

"Can't you just be _Clark_ right now instead of Superman," Bruce grumbled, honestly annoyed at the fact that his husband seemed to really have alter-egos.

He bit his lip, smiling, his glasses sliding down his nose a little. "Golly, Mr. Wayne...alright. Whatever you want."

"Uhh," he let out an involuntary moan, letting his hand roam his muscular chest. And how they ended up both completely naked and on the floor, Bruce really couldn't tell. It had all been a blur, and still was: it was one of those times where it felt like nothing in the world, the Joker, justice, _anything_, was more important than reaching an orgasm. Clark was pinning him to the ground, hands clenching tight onto his, their fingers linked so tight it was almost painful. He felt his chiseled abs rub up and down his back and he thrust, and he moaned without reason, not trying to fight his hold, but arch his back more so he would be closer to hitting his prostate: something that he seemed to purposely miss.

"Kal-el!"

"Don't stop," Clark whispered hotly into his ear, seconds later blowing ice cold air across his cheekbone.

Bruce jerked involuntarily, squeezing his blue eyes shut as he complied with the orders: there was nothing else he _could _do. "Kal-el! Kal-el, _Kal-el_!"

"Scream my name." He was _definitely_ not playing Clark Kent anymore.

"K-KAL-EL!"

"Don't stop," he warned again, nibbling on his earlobe before moving down to his neck, pushing away the sweaty black hair and kissing it some more.

"Kal-el, God, dammit all, Superman, Clark, _Kal-el_! Don't stop, you _bastard_!"

"Heh, I'm no where_ near _being done with you, Mr. Wayne." He pulled out, wanting to tease the man further yet. He pushed him up hastily, watching as he stumbled to keep balance. His eyes were almost going crossed, and he could hardly see anything clearly, almost like he was drugged. His ass was bleeding as it so often did, and he felt the cool trail running down his leg uncomfortably. But he had no choice. When Clark wanted to be the boss:_ he was the boss_.

Clark got on his knees in front of him, smiling as he held the base of his cock firmly in his hand, giving the head a long, slow lick. He grinned up at Bruce, saying, "You'll be sorry about that Kryptonite," and then he took him into his mouth completely, closing his eyes as he swallowed him down whole.

Batman groaned and bucked pitifully, reaching back to grab onto his expensive desk, feeling ashamed for his actions, but not necessarily having much time to dwell on it. His orgasm was approaching, and it was all he could think about. "I-I'm go-gonna cum," he snarled, clenching his teeth so tight, he thought they might chip a little.

And then he let out a sharp cry of agony, his eyes shooting open and body flinching instinctively back towards his desk, scrambling, and trying to get on top of it: anything to get away from that feeling...until he realized he couldn't. His stomach dropped when he saw it: his dick, completely coated in ice. How he wasn't _dying_, he had no idea. "Clark, help! _Help_!"

The Kryptonian just smirked, shaking his head from side to side. "I told you you'd be sorry."

"Please, anything! I-I'll do _anything_!"

He gazed up at him mischievously. "Anything," he whispered.

"_ANYTHING_, DAMMIT!"

Clark pondered for much too long, before licking his lips hungrily and turning his attention back to Bruce's frozen cock, melting it slowly with his heat vision. Just the head, though. He stuck his tongue out, toying with the slit on the very top.

Bruce moaned, thrashing his body from side to side, only to bring Superman's hands onto his thighs in order to hold him still. "I swear to _God_! I _swear_, Kal!"

"Oh come on. You know I'd never _hurt_ you." He sighed, as Bruce's screams had now become more demanding and annoying than sexy, drawing a line down the center, letting the rest of the ice coating drop down to the floor.

Bruce wiped away a lone tear that had formed in his eyes and sat up, grabbing him by the neck. "You will _not_ do that to me _ever_ again! I could have..._it could have_..."

"Stop being such a killjoy."

"Killjoy?! I'll show you-"

"No you won't. You said you'd do _anything_. Now beg for me," he gently pushed Bruce off, turning him around and bending him over the desk.

"No way!"

"Do you want me to do it again?" His hand encircled Bruce's strong wrist, threatening to snap it, though both of them knew he never would. The play-threat only made Bruce's heart skip yet another beat that afternoon. "Now beg for permission to have me."

He squeezed his eyes shut, those lashes brushing across his cheeks, now a faint pink...and Clark wanted nothing more than to see his face, but this was both of their punishments, so..."Take me."

"Louder."

"Please, can you take me?"

"I can't hear you."

"_TAKE ME, KAL-EL_," he screamed, clutching onto the wood of his desk, digging his fingernails into it (whatever) as he felt his body jerk forward as Clark thrust in harder than necessary.

"You sound so good when you beg, Bruce."

The phone rang.

Clark sighed, taking the moment to pause his thrusting, leaving Bruce on the edge once more. "It must be Dick."


End file.
